Quarterstick
Those who slip on the Mekons new album as a novice to the band andtheir wiles will no doubt be a bit dumbfounded. Listening to therecord, I could hear countless passages of music that I've heardelsewhere, or something so similar I would swear it was influenced bysomeone else — if I didn't know that these songs were written almost 30years ago and just recently recorded for the release. Punk Rockis a study of a band at their absolute finest, re-embracing musicthey'd written off a quarter-century ago in favor of loftier heightsand bolder experimentations. Maybe all that experience has fed thesesongs, too, as there's a wisened approach to the compositions. Pairedwith the naked aggression and powerhouse vocals is a variedinstrumentation and brave altering of tempo. These songs have a punkheart but their brains are scrambled in how to present it the heart'sfeelings. It's like punk viewed through different lenses, or a tributealbum of great punk songs by various bands, some punk some not. Thatthe band chose to record these songs to celebrate their 25thanniversary as a band is extremely telling, as they truly went backtheir beginnings to dredge this up. The album is an experience that'ssometimes rollicking fun, sometimes tear in your beer, but always aninteresting ride. The stomp of "Teeth" that opens the record is a greatindication of what lies inside, for the most part, with all instrumentsblazing to the finish line. This sentiment is echoed on "I'm So Happy"and "32 Weeks," as well, but the moments are staggered in betweentracks that slow it down a bit, bringing across a purified version ofthe song at its most naked, without the pomp and circumstance thatsometimes comes with the genre. What I hear most of all on the recordis how these songs influenced the band in the beginning and how thatspirit affected every release since.
Those who slip on the Mekons new album as a novice to the band andtheir wiles will no doubt be a bit dumbfounded. Listening to therecord, I could hear countless passages of music that I've heardelsewhere, or something so similar I would swear it was influenced bysomeone else — if I didn't know that these songs were written almost 30years ago and just recently recorded for the release. Punk Rockis a study of a band at their absolute finest, re-embracing musicthey'd written off a quarter-century ago in favor of loftier heightsand bolder experimentations. Maybe all that experience has fed thesesongs, too, as there's a wisened approach to the compositions. Pairedwith the naked aggression and powerhouse vocals is a variedinstrumentation and brave altering of tempo. These songs have a punkheart but their brains are scrambled in how to present it the heart'sfeelings. It's like punk viewed through different lenses, or a tributealbum of great punk songs by various bands, some punk some not. Thatthe band chose to record these songs to celebrate their 25thanniversary as a band is extremely telling, as they truly went backtheir beginnings to dredge this up. The album is an experience that'ssometimes rollicking fun, sometimes tear in your beer, but always aninteresting ride. The stomp of "Teeth" that opens the record is a greatindication of what lies inside, for the most part, with all instrumentsblazing to the finish line. This sentiment is echoed on "I'm So Happy"and "32 Weeks," as well, but the moments are staggered in betweentracks that slow it down a bit, bringing across a purified version ofthe song at its most naked, without the pomp and circumstance thatsometimes comes with the genre. What I hear most of all on the recordis how these songs influenced the band in the beginning and how thatspirit affected every release since.
The Frames' lack of notoriety in the US is not due to any lack ofeffort on their parts. With two releases on Overcoat, including their2001 studio album For the Birdsand a compilation of unreleased tracks, the band has been on theseshores for several club tours, getting their name out and entertainingthe masses with their polished live sound. Where other Irish bands havetried this route with limited success on a grand scale, The Frames seemto want a home-grown fanbase, teaming their small club presence withintimate albums recorded with Steve Albini and in someone's kitchen. In2003, they recorded a live album in front of a sold-out Dublin crowd,and released it to great acclaim in their home country, where it toppedthe charts and critic's polls at year's end. Now, with a new deal onEpitaph's Anti imprint, Glan Hansard and the boys are making another goon American audiences on a slightly larger scale, with that very livealbum as the first release to give people a taste of the already richcatalog of songs the band has accrued. Three of their studio albums arerepresented with more than one track, and several of them becomeextended rock jams in front of an audience. Many have said that TheFrames are a live band first, and hearing the CD I can understand why.Hansard gives his all vocally, yelping at the top of his lungs inareas, and the band blisters their way through songs, though the crowddoesn't seem to mind. In fact, it's always a good sign if you have thecrowd singing along with every word, and on several tracks that'sexactly what happens, most notably on "Lay Me Down," where the crowdbecomes an almost impromptu choir. Hansard also proves an amusing andamiable frontman, conversing with the crowd and offering stories andanecdotes here and there. Though the album is a tour-de-forceculmination of all their energies, there are small missteps, like theinclusion of "Ring of Fire" into "Lay Me Down," and the fact that themajority of the songs will be lost on a new listener, with no studioversions to compare them to as the albums are not available in the USand are rather difficult to order. That said, it's a great primer fortheir new studio album due later this year, and a great show of theextremes the band goes through, from somewhat down-tempo numbers to theall-out assault of "God Bless Mom." One thing's for sure: with anupcoming US tour supporting it-boy Damien Rice, I'll be one of thefirst in line to see if they can live up to Set List.
Hot on the heels of Soul Jazz's The World of Arthur Russell, Audika Records releases Calling Out of Context, the first in a projected three volumes chronicling Russell's work throughout the 1980s. Where The World of compiled the best of his avant-disco sides originally released limited pressings in NYC's disco heyday, Context offers a glimpse at Russell's unreleased work, culled from his vast private archive of recorded material.
Adam Pierce has evolved Mice Parade from its humble beginnings to a full-fledged accomplished live ensemble, a feat especially impressive given his other dealings in HiM, touring with M√∫m, and running Bubble Core. After the success and bombast of that experience, Pierce went back home and recorded another album mostly by himself, but he felt the need to incorporate his experiences on the road and some of his friends from other projects, culminating in the fantastic new work of Obrigado Saudade.
This release should arrive with a grain of sadness for, in January, Reynols disbanded after ten years of tireless activity. The prolific Argentine group spent the majority of this time in relative obscurity, forging ahead with large ambitions and an unflinching devotion to idiosyncratic craft that inevitably left them well-situated within the pantheon of frayed roots-rockers, brash experimenters, and psychedelic casualties. Their willingness to experiment with the most eccentric of concepts always made Reynols seem extra special, even among the small crop of similarly broad-minded collectives.
I was late discovering 2002's Thought for Food,The Books' gorgeous debut album of electro-acoustic sound collages.That album had a guileless charm, the songs seeming to form out ofnowhere, spilling accidentally out of a patchwork of crisply reproducedguitars, seemingly random voice samples, field recordings and otherunidentifiable sources. The laptop-treated melodies fell roughly intothe same category as Four Tet's Pause album, but with an earfor synchronicity and miniature sound events that reinforced theprimacy of randomness, rather than the rigidity of regular rhythms andmelody. It was a refreshing album that unpredictably alternated betweennostalgia, absurdity and ingenuity. The Lemon of Pink wasreleased last year, and I was once again late in giving it a listen.With this record, The Books display the same talent for collage andmelody, but I can't help but notice how calculated, and hence lessenjoyable this album seems compared to the relatively unaffected Thought for Food.The ideas also seem a little thinner on this outing, and the wonderfulspaciousness of the debut LP has been replaced by a cavalcade of derigeur clicks and glitches, overwhelming many of the songs. Nocomplaints with the first few minutes of the album's opening track,cycling as it does through a scrapbook of scratchy, recollective folkand bluegrass records, a woman phonetically intoning the nonsensetitle, and a hundred indeterminate snatches of sound. But after thispromising couple minutes, it all segues into a relatively tepid CatPower-esque guitar-folk ballad that is something of a letdown followingits kaleidescopic introduction. "Tokyo" utilizes samples from aJapanese airport along with its vaguely Eastern guitar plucking andviolin sawing, digitally spliced and looped to circumvent melodyentirely. It's a bit of an obvious tactic for The Books. "There is NoThere" suffers from editing overload, but still manages to be quitelovely, especially the pause at the song's center for a sampledescribing Gandhi's theory of non-violent protest. This transforms intoa rollicking banjo and guitar duet that is reminiscent of John Faheyaugmented by Jim O'Rourke's talent for laptop assemblage. The rest of The Lemon of Pinkis largely short song sketches and useless filler, making this alreadybrief album even lighter in content, more like an EP than afull-length. I suppose if I had heard this album outside the context ofThe Books previous work, I might have thought that it was a passablypretty work of indie-folktronica. But coming as it did from a band thatproduced such an impressive debut, The Lemon of Pink is a bit deficient.
I sometimes catch myself slipping into label worship, a dangerous andinfrequent indulgence, but one that has yet to free my covetous eyefrom anything bearing the Rune Grammofon stamp. The Norwegian labelcelebrated its 30th release last year with this double-CD/book, actingnot so much as a retrospective, but more as an attempted rounding-outof the label's focus, a condensed look at what the past has produced,and what the future holds. Reading through Money Will Ruin Everything,I am immediately reminded of the many labels where such a release wouldbe long overdue. Founder Rune Kristoffersen cites Tzadik, 4AD, Factory,ECM, and Blue Note as inspirations, and there can be no denying thatGrammofon's consistency of presentation, commitment to quality, and itseffected grouping of a variety of artists, under one vaguely-definedethos, find much in common with those older, iconoclastic imprints. Therisk in releasing something like Money, especially so early ina label's life, is an over-confidence, a presumptuousness surroundingone's accomplishments thus far, and the possibility of thesepresumptions, proven or not, having a negative effect on futureprojects. Money is quick to address these concerns in itstitle, a cheeky flirtation with the idea of book as a sell-out, andlater inside, as the title page is preceded by the inscription: "Thisbook is a record cover." The effort to make the book seem like merelyan expanded sleeve is clear throughout; a great number of pages aredevoted to Kim Hiorthøy's beautiful design work, the hallmark forGrammofon discs and the undoubted cause of many introductions to thelabel. The pages include detailed examinations of each Hiorthøy sleevedesign, making clear the individuality of every release within thelarger schema, and making Money seem much more like an artbookthan an attempt to venerate the label's five-year past. The book evencontains an essay devoted to the designer's contributions, and thoughthe text brings comparisons to legends like Barney Bubbles and PeterSaville, these names do not feel far off after exposure to Hiorthøy'sbody of work, which perfectly suits the colorful character of theGrammofon catalog. The great variety and quality of the label's musicare the real focal points of the book and refuse to be compromised by Wireeditor Rob Young's introductory essay or the printed interview withKristoffersen. The owner's diplomatic words actually conclude Moneynicely, describing the release as "just a signpost in the road," aclaim that is perfectly supported by the music on the two discs, allexclusive and including substantial contributions from almost everyRune artist and a number of excellent tracks from otheryet-to-be-released members of the blossoming Norwegian scene (mostnotably music from Maja Ratkje's new Fe-mail project, new signingSusanna And The Magical Orchestra, and a brilliant track by Hiorthøyhimself). A crystalline, Nordic cool can be found in just abouteverything on Kristoffersen's label, but all easy comparisons endthere. The curating founder's tastes lie in the most shadowy andgrittiest of improv (Supersilent, Scorch Trio), in the most lulling andapproachable of experimental electronic (Skyphone, Alog), andeverywhere in between, grazing pristine folk (Tove Nilsen), shuddering,skeletal techno (Svalastog), and the unclassifiable music of MajaRatkje and Spunk, who seem to blur the lines between noise andchildhood. Perhaps the unifying characteristic of all Rune Grammofonmusic is that everything, given time, feels capable of deeply personalinvestment. There is a very unique immediacy to these artists' musicthat looks inward toward the same "enchanted domain" that essayistAdrian Shaughnessy describes in Hiorthøy's art, making it impossible todescribe Rune music without touching on all the spectral degrees,frequency shifts, and, as Rob Young says, the "subtle colour shading"that indicate a life lived, complex, radiant, and full of surprises. Moneyoffers little more than this; it is a celebration of what every Runerelease celebrates, and the perfect introduction to a label that hasyet to stop short of its own high standards.
In 1948, George Orwell painted a bleak image of a future world. While 1984may have looked somewhat extreme, in the 1980s, the world did seemrather bleak with the cold war, the seemingly richest and greediestleaders the world had seen, and threat of total annihilation. The morepopular of the somewhat underground music played on these fears, asfuturistic synth music from people like Fad Gadget and Gary Numan werehardly utopian. It's been exactly 20 years since 1984 and the future isnow and it could easily be the future people have worried about foryears. The power of money and greed has corrupted the systems worldwidebeyond reasonable solutions; violence permeates everything; terrorismis ubiquitous; countries are merging; and the press is controlled andcensored by the government. The separation of wealth and middle classgrows exponentially where the urban wastelands are not so unimaginableas the onset of middle class poverty accelerates. Even the presidentspeaks a dumbed down version of the English language! Most relevant tothe review of this album: people in the country which claims to be themost free can now choose to detain people under without due process.Liberation is quite a weird concept. As the superpowers decide to"liberate" other countries, it seems their own back yard is hardlyliberated. Nowhere is this more apparent than Trans Am's residence,Washington DC, where armed military guards protect the gateways to thecapitol. A collage of fire, violence, and the home-grown billionaireswho are fucking this world up beyond belief cover this album, where,inside, the music is probably one of the most angry, intense albumsTrans Am have recorded. Fans who hated TA will be pleased toknow that the immediate urgency and intensity of older Trans Am hasreturned with a vengeance. The sung on the album are few, thankfully,and are clearly there as elements to the songs as opposed to thedriving hair band aesthetic that was TA. The album opens withthe lound, thunderous "Outmoder," and continues on with a cut up fromGeorge W. Bush on "Uninvited Guest" where the "president" speaks thetruth thanks to rearranged words. It's almost an homage toConsolidated's Friendly Fa$cism album from 1991 where Bush Sr'swords were cut up on the album's second track to portray similartruths. Trans Am compete with the madness as cars, traffic, sirens, andother city ambience can be heard outside as the band recorded much ofthis album with the windows open. It does take a few side steps to keepit varied, including the gorgeous "Pretty Close to the Edge" whichopens with an acoustic guitar riff and flows gently into a smooth drummachine ending before seamlessly jumping into the next track, "Is TransAm Really Your Friend?" The album is arranged for the vinyl medium,almost exactly 45 minutes (remember 90 minute cassettes?), with twoversions of the song "Divine Invasion" closing each side, where theband (probably unintentionally) essentially jams on the closing riff ofthe Beatles' "I Am the Walrus," which in my opinion is perhaps one ofthe most apocalyptic riffs of its time. Like any effective piece ofartwork, it's not the ability of the talents of the artist which makesthe piece of art great, it's the way in which the artwork makes theobserver think for themselves and make up their own mind. Trans Amaren't going to break out in any show-offery to prove they can playtheir instruments, they'd rather present something that will hopefullybe enough of something to react to.
The past few months have seen the dispersal of a clutch of sideprojects by the four members of Volcano The Bear, including Songs ofNorway (Aaron Moore and Nick Mott), Earth Trumpet (Laurence Coleman),Guignol (Moore, Coleman and Jeremy Barnes of Bablicon) and El Monte(Mott solo). However, none of these projects have been as immediatelyenjoyable and as consistently rewarding as Daniel Padden's work as TheOne Ensemble. The Owl Of Fivesis Padden's second full-length album, a collection of composed piecesrun the gamut stylistically, but maintain an integrity that makes allof it unmistakably the work of the same talented musician. Paddenfreely borrows Oriental melodies, Fahey-style revenant blues, Indianclassical, plaintive piano ballads and outsider folk traditions tocreate a platter of tuneful exploration that captured and held myattention for its entire length. The One Ensemble's arrangements arecleverly sparse, using as little as possible to convey the fragilemelodies that populate the album. This compositional economy is the keyelement that allows The Owl Of Fives to achieve its stylisticshifts without seeming calculated or overwrought. In fact, as the albumprogresses from start to finish, the compounding of disparate musicstrategies gets better with each track, rather than becoming tiresome.The loose exotica of "Farewell, My Porcupine" welds Kyoto folk toArthur Lyman piano jazz, replete with multitracked non-verbal chanting.Elsewhere, stately medieval melodies are created in the coversationsbetween Padden's violin, acoustic guitar and piano. "Early Music of theMorning" takes its cue from the "morning raga," a term used in Indianclassical music to connote a languid, relaxing melody appropriate formorning ablutions. Against a hazy drone, Padden pulls gently bendingtones from his cello that brilliantly mimic a sitar. The recurringmusical theme of "Still Flinging Clowns" most closely resemble theBear, with its shambling, whimsical atmosphere and vocal glossolalia.The intimate production captures those tiny flaws - the scrape of cellostrings, the clearing of throats - that lend an organic, present-tensequality to the music. With The Owl Of Fives, The One Ensemble of Daniel Padden has created a work of understated, melodic brilliance.
